


Plus One

by honestgrins



Series: Dashing and Deadly [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealous!Gendry, Modern Westeros, Weddings, axgweek, day two: marry me now, ned dayne is a thing for like a minute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestgrins/pseuds/honestgrins
Summary: It became something of a tradition for them, attending weddings as each other's plus-one. They were certain to have more fun hanging out than getting caught in round after round of awkward small talk. That was what Arya told Sansa, anyway, when her sister noted Gendry's place at their table on the seating arrangement.





	Plus One

“They’re keeping it small, trying to limit the snide comments from Mom and Dad about the baby.” Arya leaned over her controller to get a closer look at the TV, artfully dodging Gendry’s elbow for blocking his view. “If anyone says ‘shotgun wedding,’ I’m pretty sure Theon will start throwing punches so Robb doesn’t have to.”

Gendry shrugged, swerving a bit to match his car on the screen. “Sounds like a normal best man duty to me.”

Snorting, she kicked his leg away from her side of the couch. “I’m just glad they’re not making us all stand in the wedding party,” she said. “Sansa is still a bit miffed to be denied bridesmaid status, but it feels dumb to wear some formal gown here at home.”

“I can’t even picture you in a dress,” Gendry admitted, only to grunt when her fist landed in his stomach. Keeping a tight clench on the controller, he nudged her back. “It’s true!”

“I literally wear a skirt to school every day.”

Rolling his eyes, he kept his focus on the game. “You know what I mean. We’ve been friends for years, and I’ve never seen you dress up.”

With a triumphant grin, Arya cheered when her racer crossed the finish line. Dropping her controller to the coffee table, she stretched out her hands. “Because we play football and video games. I’d look pretty silly in a dress for that. But I wear them!”

“Whatever you say, Arry,” he said, his voice wry. 

She harrumphed back into the couch, picking at the holes in her jeans. “Well, you’ll see at the wedding now, won’t you?”

His eyebrows rose. “I’m coming? I thought you said they were keeping it small.”

“Uncle Robert will be invited,” Arya shrugged. “I assume you would be, too. If not, be my guest. I'm allowed to bring a friend. The food will be good, enough booze will be flowing to rival my eighteenth birthday, and I’ll die of boredom since Jon can’t make it.”

Gendry nodded. “You had me at good food, but that’s too bad about Jon. He can’t get leave?”

“Dad had to really press Uncle Benjen for details, but he’s apparently on some Ranger mission. He’ll be out of contact for months, and Robb and Talisa don’t exactly have time to wait.” She refused to call it a pout, but Arya still frowned down at her lap. “It’s his own stupid fault for signing up to serve at the Wall right after graduation. If he’d just taken a gap year, then-”

“Then,” Gendry interrupted with a friendly hand on her knee, “he would just be missing something else important. Our job is to get as many embarrassing photos as possible for him to feel like he was there.”

And suddenly, she was smiling down at her lap instead. 

* * *

It became something of a tradition for them, attending weddings as each other's plus-one. They were certain to have more fun hanging out than getting caught in round after round of awkward small talk. That was what Arya told Sansa, anyway, when her sister noted Gendry's place at their table on the seating arrangement.

* * *

The old lady had a sneer to match Cersei's, which only made Gendry more uncomfortable when he realized Arya had all but disappeared. Leaving him alone in the middle of Renly's reception was a sure-fire way to get stuck explaining his bastard status. "You do have his looks, like something out of a photo album," she decided matronly. "But the whole business is...unseemly."

"Yeah, well, sins of the father and all that," he said as politely as he could. But with his fists clenched tightly to rein in his temper, he didn't bother to hide the way he looked around the ballroom for any sort of distraction. Of course, he found Arya next to the cake, impatiently waiting for the grooms to cut it. Making his way toward her, Gendry barely muttered a quick excuse to the woman still sneering at him. "Hey," he called. "What happened to protecting me from nosy lords and ladies?"

Arya's smile upon seeing him turned apologetic. "I'm tipsy, I have a sweet tooth, and there's cake. You're good at math, I'm sure you know how that adds up."

"Just tipsy?" Loras and Renly sauntered over to them, the former shaking his head. "Our wedding's a smash darling, you should be nothing less than sloshed."

"Cake first, please," Arya grinned up at them. She leaned into Gendry's side, her head lolling back on his shoulder. Sighing, he let his arm slip around her back to hold her steady.

Narrowing his eyes, Renly couldn't help a grin of his own. "Don't you look-"

"Ah, there we go," Loras interrupted, having found the cake knife. "Let's get the imp fed and back to dancing."

Gendry blushed as Arya focused only on the cake, though she didn't move away from him. Their friendship had survived the long distance while she attended university in Braavos, and he was glad to have her back in time for his uncle's wedding. But it was both a relief and a torture to have her back like she'd never left, especially when she so easily tucked her hand into his as they watched Renly smush frosting across his husband's face.

* * *

Jamie and Brienne's wedding was a fun one, especially considering the museum they used as the venue hosted a weapons exhibit at the time. They'd both drooled over the swords, and Arya taught him a water dance move or two during the Electric Slide. If only Gendry had known it'd be their last wedding non-date for a while.

* * *

Arya breathed out a sigh of relief once she found him at the bar. "There you are!" She snatched the glass from his hand and set it down, only to grab his hand instead. "Sansa and Margaery want the bridal party to join in at the end of the first dance, and I need a partner."

Thoroughly confused, it was all Gendry could do to keep up. "Where's your boyfriend?"

Shaking her head, she walked them over to the edge of the dance floor where the brides were swaying to the music. "Bran convinced him to take a little smoke break, so they're giggling over by the kitchen doors to pounce on unsuspecting appetizers." She glanced over to Ned, waving when he smiled. "You don't mind helping me out, do you?"

"No," Gendry said, his voice a bit hoarse. "Not at all."

Arya gripped his hand when the melody changed. "That's our cue. I'm barefoot under this dress, Waters, so don't go stepping on my toes."

He smirked down at her as they fell into the rhythm, his hand spread wide at her back. "What happened to the girl who hated the idea of a big dress? I didn't think Braavos would change you so much, Stark."

Her eyebrows fell despite the amused smile she gave. "Aww, did you miss me?"

"More like I don't recognize you," he admitted. "Fancy dress, pink hair, new boyfriend."

"Ned's a good guy. Probably too friendly for your surly brooding," she teased, "but we have fun. It's college, right? I'm supposed to be having fun."

Gendry tugged at the ends of her hair, hovering just at the nape of her neck. She had to fight back a sigh, not quite prepared for how good it felt. "Hence the pink. It suits you, even if I'm surprised Sansa let you get away with it for the pictures."

"Had it clashed with their colors, I'm sure she would have asked me to change it. Let's call it personal growth that she didn't even bring it up. Mom did, though. She only calmed down when I told her I'd be bringing Ned with me."

He scoffed lightly. "Lady Catelyn must be thrilled, you practically engaged to a Dayne."

Glaring, she moved the hand on his shoulder to flick his ear. "Now I'm about to step on _your_ toes. Again, we're just having fun. I don't need the 'you're next' brow waggling from _you_, of all people."

His posture sagged a bit, though he finally mustered up a smile. "Alright, have your fun." And he twirled her out, a bit clumsy, but they both laughed when she crashed back into his chest.

* * *

Ned Dayne also made it to Jon Snow's wedding north of the Wall, one Gendry hated to miss for work, even though a part of him was glad not to pretend he wasn't half in love with Arya Stark while she danced with someone else.

* * *

She had graduated university and moved back home, free and single, just in time for Bran to marry Jojen Reed. Once more, Gendry was roped in as her plus-one, despite several attempts on his part to make it a real date. With her hanging around his flat like the old days, he had ample opportunity to make a move, and he hated himself a little more each time he failed to ask her out. The afternoon before, he felt the deadline looming.

"Ugh," Arya groaned as she flopped onto his couch. She snuggled deep into his side while he read his magazine, carefully tugging his arm to rest over her shoulders. "Mom is still insisting on a full slate of wedding activities, _even though_ Bran and Jojen are technically eloping. Why do they need a rehearsal dinner if they've already signed the paperwork? It makes no sense."

"Only Sansa gave her the big society wedding she wanted," Gendry pointed out. "Maybe let her keep a few traditions intact, especially if this is the last wedding she'll get to host." But Arya tensed next to him, and he frowned. "What? You know Rickon will never settle down, at least not traditionally."

She didn't meet his eyes; instead, she toyed with the lace hem of her dress. "I guess I don't count. No one wants to marry Arya Horseface."

His heart might have stopped in his chest. "_What?!_"

"Well, you clearly don't think I can get someone to a wedding, so-"

"No! Arry, I just meant-" Gendry swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, his hand having tangled unconsciously into her braid. "You've never mentioned marriage before. The closest you got to seriously dating was Dayne, and you all but laughed in my face when I mentioned engagement and all that. I-"

Eyes narrowed, she blinked slowly. "You've thought about this."

He ran a tired hand through his hair. "It's crossed my mind, is all," he answered, defensive. "Besides, you've gotten me to several weddings, I don't know what you're on about ha-"

Whatever rambling compliment he'd been about to give was swiftly cut off by Arya's lips, her hands cupping his face to hold him close as she kissed him. Gendry hesitated only a second before falling into the kiss, gathering her in his arms and hoping she wouldn't mind being late to Bran's rehearsal dinner after all.

* * *

Apparently, Rickon Stark _was_ willing to settle down, though Gendry was right the youngest wolf wouldn't give into all the traditions his parents wanted. That was how the whole family ended up in some tacky, Lysene chapel. Arya cheered the loudest when her baby brother dipped little Lyanna Mormont into their first kiss as man and wife, more than aware of her own boyfriend's arms around her waist. She didn't find out about the ring in his pocket until two weeks later.

* * *

"Are you sure your parents won't hate me for this?"

Arya rolled her eyes, pinning him with a loving glare as she signed her name with a flourish. "A little late to be worrying about that, Mr. Stark."

What she hadn't expected was the sudden, wet sheen in his eyes, but she loved the broad smile looking at their marriage certificate put on his face. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Waters. Or we could both take Baratheon, really throw the hell out of everyone."

"Renly would love it," she grinned. Lacing their fingers together, she squeezed his hand. "We really did it. We're married. You married me."

Gendry affectionately tapped her nose. "On purpose and everything. No regrets?"

With a deep breath, she couldn't help but smile. "None. You?"

Brushing his hair back, he scratched at his head. "Should have called Ned Dayne to be a witness, but-"

"Here we go."

"I'm just saying, it would have been good to dot the I's and cross the T's that you're mine."

She poked his chest with her free hand, heart catching at the glint of gold on _that_ finger. "And you're mine, caveman, so get over it already."

"Yours," he vowed, pressing his forehead to hers. "Always."


End file.
